Please
by Katekateseveruskate
Summary: The Master's been living on The TARDIS for a while now, and he's been learning to control the drums and hide them away, out of mind. He and The Doctor are even starting to get along. But what happens when the drums get too strong?


"Oh, God," he gasped, falling backwards onto the console suddenly, grabbing his head. The Doctor glanced over at the other Time Lord, sliding his eyes back over to where he was working, then whipped his head back around. He ran over to The Master in two strides, leaning down to the man now writhing on the TARDIS floor.

"What's wrong? Master, what's wrong? What do you need? Wha-"

"The drums," The Master sputtered. "The drums, the drums, they're... they're... killing... me!" The Doctor pulled the Master up into a sitting position and leaned him up against the console. The Master slid right back onto the floor assuming the fetal position.

"I can't- I can't- I'm cold, Doctor. It's cold! It's cold! Oh god." The Master gripped his head and continued to thrash around on the floor. He couldn't think; his mind was freezing up in his head, like a brain-freeze that just kept getting worse and worse, manifesting every nook and cranny of his brain. The only thing he could hear or feel or even acknowledge was the four beats he heard over and over._ Badadadum. Badadadum. Badadadum. Badadadum. _His vision started to blur. The Doctor leaned down close to his ear to be sure the Master would hear.

"Master, come on. Try. You've done it tons of times now! You're strong! Push the drums away. Concentrate." The Master rolled around on the ground, full on kicking and waving his arms and legs. He was occasionally letting out a broken scream, but he wasn't even aware of it. It was too cold. Too cold. He ground his teeth together hard as he concentrated on pushing the drums out of his mind. He'd been working with The Doctor on this skill after he'd been forced to live on The TARDIS. The sound began to dull, and he felt warmth coming back to his head. He slowly sat up.

"Wonderful! That was splendid," The Doctor said. "Just lovely. You're improving every day!" he grinned, feeling extremely relieved.

"It's getting worse each time, Doctor," The Master said weakly. "I don't know if next time-"

"Woah!" The Doctor interrupted, jumping up and moving back to his place at the Console. "Lots of places to see, tons of places to go! Let's get a move on! Come on, then!"

The Master stood up slowly and moved back to his spot at the console, directly across from The Doctor. The Doctor gestured to a lever and The Master pushed it upwards, his muscles spasming and working hard just to move the small handle. Had it always been that hard to move? Of course not. It was gettiing more and more difficult to stop the drums, and he just knew; he was going to die.

* * *

Almost a month had gone by without the drums pounding away. Most of the time, The Master could control them and push them out of his mind. Sometimes the four thumps were harder to push away, but were only an annoying presence in his mind, like a fly buzzing round your head, or a high-pitched ring after a very loud noise. But not for nearly a month had the drums hurt him. Until two nights after Thanksgiving, when he and The Doctor were hanging Christmas lights in the TARDIS for a holiday feel.

"I LOVE Christmas!" exclaimed The Doctor, twirling around among the lights as they hung the last strands. "The cheer, the lovely food, the decorations, and everyone's a bit happier! Don't you think?" The Doctor, who was oblivious to the fact that he was now entangled in Christmas lights, stepped forward and fell flat on his face, pulling the strand of lights down from where he'd just hung them. The Master smirked.

"Oh, you're one of THOSE people," said The Master, not looking up from his work of hanging the lights around the doors of the TARDIS.

"What, you don't like Christmas?"

"Ah, yes, of course I do," he said sarcastically. "The thought of a jolly old man breaking and entering, leaving me exactly what I'd wanted, which could only by known by extreme stalking, then eating all the cookies in the house really makes me want to sing."

"Really?" The Doctor replied, playing along with a sarcastic tone. "Would you sing for me, Master?"

"You wish, Doctor." The Master looked to the side and flashed The Doctor a grin. The Doctor returned the smile with a chuckle. He couldn't believe it. He and The Master, who'd hated him as long as he could remember, were nearly what you'd call friends.

"Agh!" yelped The Master suddenly. He grabbed his head and he flew backwards onto his back. The Doctor leaped over the railing and landed next to The Master, placing his hand under his head and pulling it to his chest, while with his other hand, he tried to keep The Master's body still. The Master's eyes rolled back in his head as he continued to kick and scream in The Doctor's arms.

The Doctor felt himself start to tear up. Here was a man who'd never shown any feelings towards him except hatred, and until recently, friendship, who was now so broken and hurting and... scared.

"Master. It's going to be okay. Focus."

"I... Can't... focus!" screamed the Doctor between groans of pain and shivers. He was starting to have trouble breathing. _Badadadum. Badadadum. Badadadum. Badadadum._ "D-DO SOMETHING, DOCTOR!"

The Doctor's breathing became quick and short as he tried to think of something. What could he do? He'd never tried before to completely eliminate the drums, because he didn't know how. He didn't know what to do, which was rare for The Doctor. And it scared him.

"I... um... Oh! Okay. I may have something that will work. Master. MASTER! Listen to me. Listen. I need you to hold very still. Hold very, very still."

"What are you going to do?"

"Improvise!"

The Doctor took The Master's head in his hands and brought the other Time Lord's forehead to his own. The Doctor closed his eyes and concentrated, hard, on what he was doing. He could hear the drums, pounding loudly, drowning out any other sound. It was overwhelming. _BADADADUM. BADADADUM. BADADADUM. BADADADUM. _He let out a yelp but didn't break contact with The Master. Suddenly, it stopped.

"Better?"

"... Doctor."

"Master, is that better?"

"Doctor."

"What's wrong? Are you... are you... Master..."

"DOCTOR IT BURNS. I CAN'T- OH MY GOD IT BURNS, MAKE IT STOP!" The Master screamed, his voice cracking on almost every word. He writhed on the floor again, The Doctor unable to think of something to do next. After a few moments, The Master sat up and grabbed to fistfuls of The Doctor's long, tan coat and pulled him close, almost nose-to-nose.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!" screamed The Master. "WHY WOULD YOU BURN ME UP? I TRUSTED YOU!" The excruciating, blinding pain was taking over The Master. It started in his head, and began manifesting his entire body, slowly flowing through his veins like a thick syrup.

"Master, I'm sorry! I don't know how to fix-" Suddenly, The Master's eyes rolled back in his head and he went completely limp.

"No," whispered The Doctor. _"No. _Master, speak to me. Stop it. This isn't funny. Say something. Please." but he knew it was hopeless. "Please. PLEASE!" he yelled as he broke into gut-wretching sobs. "Please. Please. Please. Please."

The words became a chant, _please please please _over and over again, pounding in The Doctor's head like the drums.

After a long while, The Doctor leaned down and placed a kiss on The Master's forehead. A Gallifreyan tradition, for when a family member dies. The Master had been his only family, and now he was gone.

The Doctor was once again The Last Time Lord.

He was alone.


End file.
